


Last Word

by Meganna2525



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood and Gore, I don't know what else to tag, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Please let me know if I've missed anything, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meganna2525/pseuds/Meganna2525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's had enough, and it's time to take matters into his own hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In which Lalna dies and Lalnable is created.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Word

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, this is the first thing I've uploaded on this site, so I'm not entirely sure I've got everything right. Please let me know if I need to change anything.
> 
> I wasn't expecting to write anything for Week of Terrible Fiction (though I've greatly enjoyed what everyone else has done ((seriously, I'm in awe of you all)) ) but here we are! This was inspired by Last Word by Voltaire, hence the name. It's not a nice fic, but that's kind of the point, isn't it? Either way, I had fun writing this.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long.”

“Okay.”

“You can clean that mess up while you’re waiting.”

“I will.”

“You will be okay without me, right?”

“Right.”

A sigh. “Lalna, could you please look at me when I’m talking to you?”

He raised his eyes obediently, and was rewarded with a smile.

“There, that’s better. You have such beautiful eyes, Lalna, don’t hide them from me.”

A hand cupped his cheek and he leant into the caress with a sigh. Warmth pressed against his lips for a brief moment.

“See you soon.” And he was gone.

He took a few moments to collect his scattered thoughts, to settle back into his body. Once he felt more like himself he rose from his knees, wincing at the strain from sitting in one position for so long, and started picking up the shattered glass. They’d had an argument earlier. It’d been his fault, he’d messed up and he deserved what had happened. He’d deserved worse, the wounds he’d received not even needing stitches.

Lost in thought, his grip slipped on one of the fragments, cutting deep into his hand. Blood fell to the floor, red against white. A gasp echoed around the room, the tinkling of glass as it hit the ground. Images flashed through his mind in vivid detail, red against white, again and again. His mistakes, and his punishments. The icy blue eyes of his Master watching him, a cold hand holding him tenderly.

Why did his Master put up with him? He messed up time and time and time again, and yet he was always there. Patching him up when he fell down, molding him into a better person, caring for him, loving him. And always reminding him how lucky he was to have his Master. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve him.

A sharp pain brought him back to reality. He felt his hands tangled in his hair. A strange pressure building in his head. Something sharp digging into his scalp, scraping across bone. Warmth ran in rivulets down his face, dripping steadily onto his labcoat. He dropped his hands to his lap, watched the glass fall with them. It shattered against the floor. A thousand more blood-red shards exploded into being and danced before him. As he watched them settle an idea started forming.

As though in a trance, his hand reached for the glass before him. His fingers lightly traced each fragment before settling on the largest. He grasped it tightly in both hands, ignoring the pain as it sliced through skin, through muscle, raking across tendons and bone. He hesitated for a moment, one deep breath to steel himself, and then-

Pain shot through his system and he doubled over, curling around the glass now embedded in his stomach. Each movement, each breath, sent waves of pain flooding through his body. He clenched his teeth to force back a cry, tasting blood. He forced himself to take a deep breath, wincing as it jarred his wound, and examined it.

He could probably survive for a few hours. The ringing in his ears suggested that he would not be conscious for that long, however. He took another deep breath to try and stay awake and gripped the glass. He would have to try again if he wanted to be gone before-

He bit back another cry as the pressure returned, bringing with it a sudden pain and strange images. Images of him, of his Master, of people and places he didn’t know but felt he should recognise. The images came faster and faster as the pain increased, building and building, until he felt like his skull would split open. And then-

Oh. _Oh._

He remembered now. He remembered being strapped down to a table, with his Master- Xephos standing over him. He remembered Xephos hurting him time and time again, and wiping his memories, making him forget it. He remembered his own face staring back at him, copy after copy of himself. He remembered Xephos forcing him to- He clapped a hand over his mouth and forced back the bile that had risen in his throat.

Once he had calmed down he lowered his hand again, resting it lightly on the glass still buried in his stomach. Anger was burning in his chest, leaving the rest of him feeling cold and empty. His only thought was of revenge.

He grasped the shard again, hands slippery with blood and shaking from the damage he’d done to them, and slowly pulled it out. Gouts of blood rushed from the wound and he once again felt lightheaded. Taking deep breaths, he rolled up his sleeves. An empty expanse of skin greeted him. He traced over it with the shard, watching blood bubble to the surface when he pressed too hard. Yes, he should have enough room.

He worked swiftly, carving deep enough to hit bone. His final message to the rest of the world, the name of his murderer. His killer would be the only one to see it, of course, and he idly wondered what his reaction would be. Would he see this as an accusation, a cry for help? Could he even feel guilt anymore? More likely, he’d feel some perverse satisfaction at seeing his own name branded on the broken body of his former lover.

Darkness started clouding his vision. Satisfied with his work, he let it claim him. The thud of his body falling to the floor felt distant. A familiar cold crept through him and he smiled. It had been enough.

~~~

He awoke in the infirmary. A cold hand was resting lightly on his own. He could feel a block in his mind that he was now easily able to break through, and he attempted to keep his face neutral as the memories flooded back to him. He evidently didn’t do a good enough job as he felt someone shift beside him and heard a familiar voice.

“Lalna? Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes to see Xephos peering down at him, face schooled in a mockery of worry. He nodded, forcing a small smile.

“I think so. What happened?”

“It appears that one of the experiments got loose. It’s been taken care of now, no need to worry, and I myself will be examining the holding cells from now on to ensure this doesn’t happen again. What do you remember?” And there was suspicion in his eyes.

He wrinkled his brow, “Nothing. Is that normal?”

Relief washed over Xephos’s face, quickly hidden behind a smile. He sat back in his chair, still holding his hand.

“Yes, yes. It’s a side effect of the cloning process, haven’t got all the kinks ironed out yet, don’t worry about it.”

Xephos patted his hand, giving him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He returned it, fighting to keep his hatred off his face.

“Well, I’d better talk to a doctor about getting you released. Oh, and don’t worry, someone has cleaned our quarters, disposed of the body, done a bit of general tidy-up, you know. We’ll be able to head back there soon.”

Xephos leaned forwards and kissed his cheek before standing to talk to one of the nearby testificates. He took this opportunity to go over his memories again, feeling rage stir in his stomach. He glanced at his arm and saw bandages wrapped around it. All of his other wounds had been healed when he’d respawned. He brushed a hand over the bandages, sighing.

Xephos would be keeping a closer eye on him this time around. Looks like he’d need to change tactics. And then some beautiful thoughts occurred to him. Thoughts of his hands around his Xephos’s throat, choking the life out of him. Thoughts of plunging a knife into Xephos’s gut, of tearing away at Xephos’s skin and seeing if he even had a heart, of finally seeing that light leave his bright, beautiful blue eyes.

No more kneeling placidly, letting Xephos do whatever the fuck he wanted. No more tearing himself apart, instead he’d lash out at the one who’d done this to him in the first place. No more of Xephos’s precious little pet Lalna.

Lalnable smiled at Xephos’s back, sharp teeth and cruel eyes. “Well, now,” he purred, “This is going to be fun.”


End file.
